


Broken

by ailaikannu



Series: Letters From a Shattered Heart [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, F/F, Falling for your straight best friend, Letters from a shattered heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 08:36:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7884232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ailaikannu/pseuds/ailaikannu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new letter Lexa writes to describe her feelings towards her straight best friend, Clarke.<br/>Part two of Letters From a Shattered Heart, set three months after "Doomed".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

Whoever you are,

                                 I have been in college for three months now.

I am not going to tell you it’s been easy, the first couple of weeks were atrocious, I didn’t even want to go to class. I just figured curling up in a ball and crying all day long wasn’t going to do me any good. It’s always been about pride, you know ? I care about school, I care about my grades, I care about life in general. My mum raised me this way. So I went to class, I met new people, I went to parties, I fooled around. It didn’t make me feel better, if that’s what you’re hoping for. I still haven’t found my happy ending. I’m still not at peace with my head, or my heart.

Clarke never leaves my mind, not even when I am kissing some other girl. Not when my older sister found me passed out in a garden after a frat party, twice. Not when I am in class, or studying.

I still think about her every single day of my life.

I’ll be going back home in about a month for Christmas break and I’m silently hoping that she won’t be coming back. I want to see her so badly, but my mind tells me that if I see her, I’ll probably die. I know it’s pretty unlikely, but I’ve always been a drama queen and I can’t help it.

Is it bad to say that I’m stalking her on social media ? She doesn’t post on Facebook anymore, and her profile picture is still a stupid photo my sister Anya took of the two of us this summer. We’re on the roof, Clarke is smiling brightly as she holds her cat in the air, Lion King style, while I look positively terrified. It sums up our friendship pretty well. She posts almost every day on Instagram, though. Only pictures of her art and some other cool pictures of the sky or New York. Never a picture with her friends, or with Finn.

I miss her art. I miss all those afternoons spent together, she used to paint while I was writing, or reading. Sometimes I would let some of her paintings inspire one of my stories, or she would be inspired to paint something after reading my stories. We were always happy to be alone together. Most of our schoolmates would tell us that we were crazy, that what we did was boring. It made us love our afternoons together even more.

I can’t help but think she’s happier now.

I want her to be happier. I don’t want her to feel miserable, the way I do. I don’t want her to suffer because of me and the way she looked at me that last night on the roof still haunts me. I feel like I broke her and it was all my fault.

We had this beautiful friendship and I thought it was a good idea to ruin in, well, now I’m paying the consequences. I could be on Skype with her right now, laughing at some stupid shit she did in New York… And instead I don’t even know what she looks like right now.

Alright, maybe I’m being overdramatic. But she might have dyed her hair. She might have grown an inch.  She might have decided her style should be more gothic. I don’t know anything about her.

Every now and then (often) I look at a letter she wrote for me the night I told her what I feel for her. She left it on my window, I was awake when she left it there, but I pretended not to see her. I keep it inside my phone’s case.

_September 2 nd, 2016              5.46 a.m_

_I can’t sleep._

_I know you just told me you want to start a new life without me and I respect that, but I need you to know a few last things. I know your deep spirit loves letter, so here I am. I hope you won’t rip this apart before you read it._

_I didn’t expect you to say those three words to me, not in the way you meant them. I feel like a shitty best friend for not noticing before. I feel like I hurt you for too long without even realizing how bad I was making you feel._

_I’m really sorry._

_I wish I could somehow make you feel better, and I’m sure the only way to do so is to let you go. It’s hard, believe me, it’s really hard. It breaks my heart to think that we’ll both be starting this new huge chapter of our lives, alone. I know I’m not the only person in your life and that you’re not the only person in mine… But you’re the most important. You are my person._

_I know I won’t stop caring about you just because we stop talking. I know I just can’t. I know I’ll keep thinking about our nights on the roof, of how you’d tell me to stop smoking while lighting a cigarette for yourself, of how I almost fell down after deciding to do vodka shots up there. I know I’ll keep thinking about our artsy afternoons together in your living room, right after school, about our Sunday morning’s spent watching Netflix while your mother went to Church. I know I’ll keep thinking about how for a few months I thought you loved my cat more than you loved me. I know I’ll keep thinking about the swimming pool my father used to put in my backyard when we were little and how you would always slip while trying to dive in. I know I’ll keep thinking about how you held me through countless sleepless nights after my father died._

_I know I’ll keep thinking about you, about us, about our friendship._

_I’ll love you always and forever_

_Clarke_

I cry every single time I read it. I cry because she’s suffering, maybe as much as I am. I cry because I lost the best thing I’ve ever had in life. I cry because I lost my best friend and partner in crime.

I cry because nothing about this is right and I knew it would happen.

If I think about what we had and what we lost… We shared a family. I don’t know when it happened, but it did. Suddenly, I felt at home even when I was at her place. I felt at home when I looked at her parents. My heart shattered in my chest when her father died. When her baby brother Aden was born, I cried with her. We were eight and held him like her was the most precious thing in the world.

I know she felt, or feels, the same. I know she feels at home when she’s at my place. I know she looks at my mother like if she was her own. I know she hates my father for leaving us and I know it makes her feel a bit abandoned as well. I know she loves my sister Anya and that she went to her when we fought when we were thirteen.

I know my relationship with her family will never change and same goes with hers with my mother and sister. But there’s just this unspoken rule, it usually applies to break ups… You can’t go see them like you used to. I don’t think I’ll be spending Christmas Eve with them anymore. I don’t think she’ll be with us for Easter lunch.

My father sent me a text about a month ago, saying he wanted to see me. I haven’t been able to respond yet, because I usually talk to Clarke about this kind of problems. She was with me on the roof the night my father left us. She was there when he yelled at my mother that he would have killed her if it wasn’t illegal. She held me when he broke the glass door because he slammed it close too hard as he left running.

I heard her yelling with her parents that it was unfair. She said I didn’t deserve it. She said I shouldn’t have to endure that kind of pain at such a young age. I cried for many nights after that, and she was always by my side, never leaving me.

I just wish I could talk to her. I wish I could grab my phone, call her and cry with her for hours, knowing I don’t need to talk, because she’ll listen to me cry forever just to make me feel better. I know she would, because she has many times in the past.

The thing is that I lost her that damn night on the roof, and she won’t be coming back.

                                                                                                                                                                                   Whoever I am


End file.
